Fic: Fanaticism

[bleugazer]

Title: Fanaticism
Characters: Gin, Rangiku
Warnings: disturbing
Rating: PG-13

“Why is it that you smile all the time?” Rangiku asked out loud. It had only been a few months since she met Ichimaru Gin, but the question had been bothering her for some time. It was very old to say the least by Gin was always smiling, always. Even when he was bleeding, or hungry, or tired, there was always a smile on his pale face. It never wavered.

Rangiku had wondered whether it was some sort of defect, like a scar. But what sort of defect made people smile constantly?
The silver-haired boy turned around, the usual grin on his pale features. Like most of the children in Roukongai, Gin was skinny, dirty, malnourished, and stunted in growth. However, Rangiku soon learned that Gin was unlike any of the other starving children. Gin’s mind seemed to work in different ways. He remembered a lot of things-things like the direction to a hideout or the specific pothole where wagons overturned.

He analyzed things, like who were the right people to pickpocket or whether they should risk the chance of getting caught by stealing. He created perfect schemes and traps to crook both adults and children out of their money and food.

Gin also knew how to read and write, add and subtract, all without formal schooling.

But perhaps what was even more impressive, Rangiku thought, Gin could control spiritual energy, mold it to certain extents. He had even torn and stolen several pages of an expensive kidou book and, remarkably after a few days, mastered every one of them.

Rangiku knew early on that Gin was smart. She knew that while she thought of tomorrow, he thought of tomorrow and next week, two weeks ahead even; and it was because of this intelligence that Gin had survived a harsh life on the streets.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he responded, closing the broken door against the bitter cold. With a yawn, he threw himself against a yellow haystack.
“No,” Rangiku answered ignoring mooing of the white and black cows.

It was the dead of winter but Gin had found a barn to escape the cold. He had recalled that the owners tended to visit distant relatives for all of winter. A boy would be left to take care of the farm, but the boy was relatively careless. This made for an opportune time, since they could sneak into the barn to escape from the winter- though it was rather noisy and smelled strongly of manure. But it provided warmth.
“I thought it was obvious,” he said matter of fact. “Don’t people smile because they’re happy?”

“Yeah,” Rangiku admitted. She sat down beside him, observing the grin that was carved onto his face. It was a most unusual smile as well. The ends of his lips curved upwards, raising his cheeks. His eyes cringe from the force of the smile, making it seemed as though they were always shut. To Rangiku his smile didn’t seem friendly.

A friendly smile would be that kind old lady’s smile from last week. She had unselfishly given her a pretty comb for her wild hair, mentioning that she would look so much prettier if only she would comb her hair. Gin had scoffed at such an unnecessary thing, and had pondered how much cash this old woman had on her. At this, Rangiku loudly protested, saying that the comb was probably worth something that they didn’t need to steal from a harmless old lady.

Eventually Gin had agreed and they ended up pawning the comb. A portion would go for food, another to savings. She didn't quite understand what they were saving for but Rangiku had a feeling that maybe it had something to do with the Shinigami Academy, since Gin seemed entranced by it- he was the only one from Roukongai who could probably recite the name of the headmaster and the faculty.
Of course Rangiku had been sad that the comb was pawned, since the old lady's smile was so pleasant and it was such a random act of kindness to a skinny, filthy girl like herself. But she understood that a plate of hot food would be more useful than a silly comb.

To Rangiku, Gin’s smile wasn’t as friendly as that kind old lady. Instead, his was much more mischievous as though he knew some secret that no one else did.

“Are you really happy all the time?” Rangiku asked, more curious than ever. She normally didn't ask Gin questions, partially because she feared that he might be offended and leave her on the streets. For a moment Gin didn’t answer, and she worried whether she had said something stupid and insensitive.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” he finally answered, turning a page. He must have been too engross in his book to answer her question. For days he had hungrily looked through the book, eager for knowledge.

She frowned unable to follow his logic. There were millions of reasons to be miserable and unhappy. Rangiku awoke into Soul Society with this retched spiritual energy and because of this horrible curse, she became unwanted. Rangiku became someone so detested, so vulgar that not even the other children had wanted to invite her into their families. Most children groaned in annoyance when they saw her, and threw rocks and mud, yelling at her to go away.

Spiritual energy, she soon learned, was only useful when the individual was a shinigmai or a nobleman; otherwise it was nothing but a nuisance- nothing but pain and unending hunger. Because of her spiritual energy, she needed more food than ‘normal’ children and, consequently, she became too much of a burden to be anyone’s sister.

Left alone and friendless, Rangiku wandered the dust covered streets, rummaging through garbage and filth for food, sipping polluted, dirty water because she was so thirsty, and competing for that one moldy old bread against the hundreds of starving children.

And when she would beg for food, it was always a whack to the head, a harsh shove, or some insult; or perhaps even worse, a turn of the head, her presence obviously not significant enough or too much of a hindrance.

Perhaps that’s why she felt so startled when that kind old woman had smiled at her. No one had ever ‘seen’ her before. She was always this poor invisible creature that people tended to ignore.

But then one day, Rangiku heard whispers of a better district, where the rich noble folks threw away piles of food and where the water was so sparkling clean you could see through it. Excited by this thought, she had eagerly left that cruel area, in search of a better home. But the trip turned out to be much longer than she expected-roughly two weeks-and she collapsed, tired and hungry, alone in the middle of two districts.

A thought came to her that she might die, and a spark of hope raced through her head that maybe there wouldn’t be any more hunger and pain, with whatever came next.

But then Gin had saved her by merely offering a persimmon- a small, yellow-dried persimmon that she still remembers even today- and would mildly ask whether she had spiritual energy. “You too?” she asked feebly.

“Yup! Me too!” He had said it so eagerly as though he were proud to have spiritual energy, as though spiritual energy wasn’t a curse, but some sort of gift that only the privilege could have. They weren’t gluttonous monsters- like the other children had chanted at her- but special, extraordinary even.

Rangiku would give him a look, but Gin would just laugh.

He taught her that people like them could survive. He taught her how to lie, how to cheat, how to steal, how to fight for food, and eventually how to control spiritual energy.

Gin was a very good reason to be happy. He had seen this pitiful, dying creature and had nursed her back to health. He had been the reason that her life had sustainably improved. She was happy to have found Gin, though she didn’t smile constantly. Why was Gin so happy about?

“I don’t understand Gin. It’s so difficult for us to survive,” she said her voice tiny, briefly mentioning the spiritual energy. They needed to eat several times a day as opposed to other normal children that ate once every four days. This constant hunger meant they were always searching for food, especially with two beings of spiritual energy.

He looked up from his book. “You always think of stuff like that,” he gently scowled. “I told you it’s only a selected few that have spiritual energy. That means we must be special.”

Rangiku frowned. “Are you happy because you have spiritual energy then?”

His face scrunched for a moment. “I guess. But I would still be happy if I had no spiritual energy.”

“Then why are you happy?”

He sat up, carefully putting the book aside. Ever since he had gotten that book, he had been so meticulous over it, wrapping it with a rag and stuffing it under his robes. No dirt or water got on that book, and he absolutely refused to tear or dog-eared a page.

That book had caused him a huge bruise on his back when the bookstore owner had released that one of his books was missing. He had swatted Gin with a broom, harshly demanding for the book. Gin had been clever enough to talk his way out of it, while he handed the book to Rangiku. She had ran with the book, while Gin was being searched. But to Gin it had all been worth it.

When he finished wrapping the book, he looked up the grin on his face growing wider. “Because I have freedom.”

Rangiku stared at him, slightly confused. It seemed like such an unusual thing to say, since freedom had no relatively value. He held plenty of other reasons to be happy for. Like his intelligence and quick thinking, nothing as abstract as freedom.

Perhaps he noticed her puzzled face. “I’ll tell you a story okay?”

He didn’t wait for her response and immediately sat back in the hay, the smile on his face not as intense but still there. It looked as though he were thoughtful instead of the usual smiling face.

“There was this boy that I knew, who wasn’t free. He was born into a peasant family, where they worked on the fields tending to their crops. His parents weren’t so rich or so poor that they couldn’t’ afford food. But the boy was born with spiritual energy, so it was putting a strain on their food supply.

“The land was already becoming barren and whatever crop that the land produced was given to the boy. Because of this, the village disliked the family. To them they were hogging all the food, but I think they were just jealous. They were jealous and afraid because that boy had something they did not. The boy had power and potential, unlike them that would always be stuck tending to their fields.”
Gin sighed, the brief passion in his eyes disappearing just as suddenly. Rangiku continued to listen.

“Eventually the family became ashamed of their son. They began to think of him as a burden and a disgrace, until finally they hid him in the house. He was imprisoned in his home, away from the eyes of the neighbors. Rules were established, just for him, so no one could see him.

“He wasn’t allowed to go outside, except if it was dark, even then they had to make sure no one was outside. He was given house chores and after he was done, he was to remain quiet and still and ordered not to attract attention from the neighbors. These rules helped insure the family’s survival, so of course if one tiny rule was broken, for whatever reason, there would be a harsh punishment.

“But the boy didn’t want to follow these rules. He was bored and he was curious of what the world had to offer him. He was curious of his spiritual energy and wanted to learn more about it, but that was out of the question. His parents opposed so much as speaking about his spiritual energy, there was no way they would allow for books and pay for school.

“So the boy was imprisoned in his home, wanting and yearning to know more about himself. He was tired of following these stupid rules, but he was forced to follow them, otherwise, he wouldn’t be fed. But then things changed.

“His father was a blacksmith- constantly pounding on metal with a heavy hammer that thundered throughout his messy workshop room- while his mother tended the crops. These two people fought over the most trivial things, everything from their disgraceful son, to the fields, to money, to everything. These two hated one another, and slowly their marriage was falling apart.

“One spring a new neighbor moved in, young and pretty with full lips that lit up her face whenever she smiled. She talked sweetly to his father, but viewed his mother with distaste. Over time, his father spent less time in the house and though the arguments stopped, his mother grew angrier and hateful.

“It was the tenth of November when some kids discovered the body of the young, pretty neighbor floating in the river. It was reasoned that she slipped on the muddy banks and hit her head on a rock, while she was collecting some herbs. No one thought any different, but that night while the boy was finishing his dinner, he heard his parents arguing again. He figured it was just one of their usual arguments until he heard the name of the young, pretty neighbor. Curious despite himself at the strange circumstances around her death, he viewed through the keyhole at the door.

“His mother was angry, mentioning infidelity while his father accused her as the murder. Of course, she denied any foul play but the father was adamant. He stormed off then, racing to his shed in the back. The boy followed, hiding in the shadows.

“The angry screams continued until finally the husband picked up his prized hammer and repeatedly pounded on her head, as hard as when he shapes metal. He continued to pound harder and harder, the hatred finally showing its ugly head. There was a wild look in his eyes as he continued to pound the hammer against her skull. He did not stop as the blood continued to pour out of her head, like water, as the fluids from the eyes erupted, as her nose shattered into pieces.

“He didn’t stop until he finally broke through the hard skull, and was pounding on the pink brain. The folded tissues of the brain, splattering on the floor like pudding. He would have continued hammering if only he hadn't been too tired to continue.

“It took him a moment to realize what he had done, and the father cried out in remorse. He was crying not because he had killed his wife and his lover was dead. He cried because his hammer was stained with her blood and the blood wouldn’t come off. He scrubbed madly for hours, and still the blood would not come off. It was forever stained on the black iron hammer, a testament to the crime had had committed.
“This was his only hammer, his prized tool as a blacksmith. He couldn’t afford to buy a new one- they had no money and plenty of debts. How was he supposed to make a day’s living without his tools? He had no work. No means of supporting himself.

“He yelled at the dead body of his wife. Screaming like a madman at what she had done, but his wife was dead and the dead cannot talk. For once his wife was silent, she would not argue with him.

“It was his silence that angered him most. So he busied himself with tying a knot, his hands still red, covered with the blood of his wife. When the knot was tied tightly he placed it over the highest point of the shed. A stool was sought for next and when the noose was securely over his neck, he kicked away the stool. For a moment he struggled as gravity pushed him down but then there was the sound of a loud crunch as the neck snapped. The eyes rolled on the back of his head and slowly the body became still. He would follow his wife to hell, so he could yell at her for staining his hammer with her blood.

“Imagine the surprise of the boy! He had been peaking through the window, and watched everything. He had seen his father brutally murder his mother and witness his father hanging himself. Imagine his surprise Rangiku!”

Gin stood up, wildly pacing throughout the room. There was an almost manic look on his face as he continued to pace about the room, talking to himself. “The boy was free! There were no more rules to hold him down. The hammer had pounded away the rules so now there was nothing left but the broken pieces, just like the skull of his mother. Now there was no one holding him back. Both his parents were dead. He could travel the world and finally satisfy his curiosity! He was free.”

He stopped then, panting from his great excitement. He looked over at Rangiku, expecting a show of jubilation. Rangiku, however, had her mouth opened in horror.

Is the expense of another human being, reason to be happy? The boy had gotten his freedom but he had witnesses the death of both his parents in one night. Despite the horrible attitude of the boy’s parents, they were still his parents. They were the people that had given life to him, that had fed and protected him.

Rangiku had always craved for the love and warmth that only a parent could offer. She couldn’t understand how anyone could be happy at the prospect of being an orphan. She couldn’t understand how someone would greedily look at what they parents had left behind, instead of mourning for them.

What sort of deranged, psychopath individual would that be?

“What the matter Rangiku?” Gin asked noticing her pale face. The smirk on his face widened. It suddenly looked creepy. “Did I scare you?”
“Y-yes,” she answered truthfully feeling a rash of goose bumps on her arm that had nothing to do with the cold.

Gin laughed, his laugh mixing in with the creaking of the barn and the cowing of the barn animals; outside the wind howled, pounding angrily against the barn door, like a hammer. He picked up the book, carefully unwrapping it. Like all other nights, he would probably be up all night reading it.

“Don’t be. It's a story with a happy ending.”